Tainted Love
by BurpingBubbles
Summary: Was Cho ever given a bad time about falling for a boy two years younger than herself? Set in her fourth year, Cho compares Harry and Cedric. The mature sixteen year old, or the scruffy thirteen year old? Does age &height matter where love is concerned?


"ARAGH!"

If anyone had been in the Ravenclaw common room at one o'clock in the morning, on a Tuesday night, they would have been forced to duck as several blue velvet cushions went flying through the air. When they failed to make any satisfactory noise as they collided with the wall, the thrower gave another strangled scream and hurled her schoolbag after them.

"I – hate – you!" the thrower gulped, whirling round so her long, inky black hair flared out and smacked the pale skin of her face, "I – you – ARAGH!"

A china dish was hurled violently to the floor. Gleaming white shards burst and scattered out of sight, but the thrower didn't care. Giving another loud, miserable sob, she stepped over the broken bowl and threw herself at the sofa, burying her face in the one cushion she hadn't yet thrown at the wall. Her chest heaved with unspoken misery.

A tentative noise behind her made her glance up for a moment, terrified her silencing spell hadn't worked. Unfortunately for her, someone was standing at the foot of the stairs, one hand on the rail and staring at her.

"Dessie?" she whispered, recognising the long fringe and pale blue eyes of her best friend immediately. Giving an almighty sniff, she sat up and started wiping at her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Dessie shrugged and pulled her dressing gown more firmly around her waist. "You were never very good with silencing spells, honey," she whispered, then came forwards gingerly, taking out her wand as she went. "Reparo," she muttered, pointing at the largest piece of broken china on the floor. "Accio cushions."

Cho sat in silence as cushions zoomed neatly back into their correct places, and the dish rattled together once more. Her cheeks were starting to grow rather hot. "Could everyone hear me?" she asked, cringing a little at the thought of what she had been screaming twenty seconds ago. "Tell me they couldn't."

Dessie shook her head. "Nah. Everyone else is dead to the world, but I was only just starting to nod off. You woke me."

"Sorry," Cho mumbled, her face growing warmer by the minute. Dessie shrugged her shoulders and padded towards the sofa, sitting down next to her friends feet. In the dying firelight, her tangled blond hair became as dark as Cho's own. Brushing it back from her face, Dessie slung an arm over the back of the sofa and turned to face her.

"I'm guessing this has something to do with Cedric?"

Shooting her a look out the corner of her eye, Cho pulled her knees up to her face, and rested her chin on them. "You might say that," she whispered eventually, after sitting there in silence for a while. Dessie snorted.

"C'mon, Cho, you can't keep it from me forever. You know I'll just end up dragging it out of you."

Silence. Dessie sat staring at her friend's moody outline, a frown on her petite features. "Cho?" she prompted, when it became too quiet for her. "Speak to me, honey. Is it Cedric? Has he said something to you?"

Cho sighed tearfully, throwing back her head and gazing up at the shadowy ceiling. "No, he hasn't said a word, more's the pity," she replied huskily. She swallowed, then descended back into silence again. Dessie watched her for a moment longer with growing impatience, but kept quiet. Something told her Cho was about to reveal all, and all it would take was a little waiting.

Finally, Cho let out another small, dainty sigh. "It's not…Cedric," she whispered eventually, gazing intently at her fingernails, "It's…ah…" she glanced up suddenly, and looked Dessie straight in the eyes. "If I say, will you promise not to tell?"

Dessie held her wand to her heart, and said solemnly, "I swear not to tell anyone. But do hurry up, Cho, my legs are going to sleep sitting here for so long."

Cho rolled her eyes, but wasn't able to stop the tear that slid down her cheek as she did so. "It's not Cedric," she said again, and another tear fell from her dark, oriental eyes, "It's…Harry Potter."

For several long moments, Dessie just stared at her. "What, has he said something to you?" she asked stupidly, "Has he been bullying you?"

Cho looked at her, then burst out giggling. "No!" she chuckled, shaking her head and making her dark curtain of hair fall over her face, "No, I don't mean that!" She pushed back her hair, still laughing weakly, and as she did, Dessie's mouth suddenly fell open.

"You _fancy_ him, don't you!" she yelped incredulously, making Cho make several frantic 'shhh'ing actions before slapping a hand over her mouth to shut her up.

"Would you like to say that again, I don't think everyone in Japan heard you!" she hissed. Ignoring this statement, Dessie shook her hand away from her mouth and wriggled away from her as though she was contaminated.

"Cho, he's _younger _than you!"

"So?" Cho's pale face was scarlet, but she folded her arms and sat back defiantly. "It's only one year." Dessie's jaw dropped even wider.

"Younger than you by a _year, _Cho! No, wait a minute. You're the oldest in our year, because you were born in September. That makes you older than him by _two years, _almost!" Dessie's face was the picture of disgust. "There's a name for that, Cho, and it begins with a C. Cradle snatching!"

"Don't be so ridiculous."

"But he's thirteen!"

"So what? I'm only just fifteen."

"He's _shorter _than you!"

"Only by a few inches."

"It's disgusting."

"I don't care!" Cho leapt up from the sofa as though branded, and began to pace angrily. "You don't think I don't know all this, Dessie? You don't think I've gone through it all in my head, every time I see him smile at me, or fly past me during Quidditch? I know he's younger, and shorter, and more immature, and all the rest of it, but you know what?" Cho stopped and glared at Dessie, who remained stony faced and silent on the couch. "I don't care!"

Dessie sniffed, and sat back, observing her through narrowed eyes. "So what has all of this got to do with Cedric?" Her tone was cold, and Cho flinched involuntarily, doing her best to hide it. "A couple of days ago you were obsessed with him."

Cho stood staring at her, her face half in and out of shadows, skin in stark contrast to her hair. From where Dessie sat, she looked strangely like a vampire, with her eyes no more than two hollow, dark pits sunken into a strained white face. "I did like Cedric," she murmured eventually, and her hands balled up in frustration, nails digging into milky palms, "I still do like him. A lot. But…" she hesitated, and her steady gaze dropped to the floor. "I like Harry more."

Dessie simply looked at her.

"He's really nice," mumbled Cho, "Really sweet looking. And he makes me laugh."

"Now, are we talking about Cedric or Harry?" Dessie asked sarcastically. She sat back and stared out Cho again, who was looking back at her furiously.

"Dessie, you're not helping!"

"I am helping," responded Dessie coolly, "I'm helping you get your facts straight. Let me give them to you, right now. Harry Potter? Is a little boy. No, listen to me," she added as Cho opened her mouth indignantly, "He's a little _boy _Cho. He's thirteen, for goodness sake! You are fifteen!" Dessie paused for a moment to let her words sink in, then plunged on. "And Cedric? He's a man. He is older. Mature. Very good looking, not to mention popular, _and _he's Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Now." She locked eyes with Cho. "Who would you honestly rather go out with?"

Cho gave a miserable sounding squeak in her throat, tears forming in her dark eyes again. "You don't understand," she whispered unhappily, her voice catching roughly on barely suppressed sobs. "When you put it like that, y-you make it sound like such an easy ch-choice."

Dessie stood up, and wrapped her arms around Cho, whose shoulders were starting to shake dangerously. "It is an easy choice, when you think about it," she said comfortingly, rubbing her back. Cho's eyes were squeezed closed. "At least, I know what I'd do. Cedric likes you anyway. This thing with Harry Potter is just a phase. You'll get over it! Come next week, you'll have forgotten you ever liked him."

Cho's body sagged against Dessie's as several more tears dripped down her cheeks. She didn't reply, but only stared glassily at the blue plush carpet until her friend released her and stepped away, taking her in with worried eyes.

"Come on, you look exhausted. Let's go to bed." Cho shook her head.

"No, you go," she sighed, then swallowed. "I'll be up in bit. I just need to…get my bag."

Dessie looked at her for a moment, then nodded and said, "Ok. If you're not up in five minutes, though, I'm coming back down for you." Her tone was light, but her eyes looked deadly serious. Cho smiled weakly and nodded, watching as Dessie mounted the stairs, then disappeared from sight. Her false smile fell easily from her face, and biting her lip she looked round for her bag, spotted it crumpled in a heap in a corner, and walked over to get it. She suddenly felt incredibly weary.

A phase. That would be it, of course. She often went through phases, crazes, obsessions like any other normal teenage girl. And Dessie was right: Harry _was_ shorter than her. Imagine trying to hold hands with him! They'd look ridiculous. Picking up her bag, Cho held it to her chest and hugged it tightly, an image of Cedric's smiling face falling into her mind, golden waves of hair lightly caressed by the wind, the angular cheekbones that drove all the girls crazy setting off his wide grey eyes beautifully. He was perfect. She tried to summon up another smile at the thought of him. He was the kind of guy a girl could dream about. However, as she stood there concentrating on the image, somehow his spun-gold hair was turned scruffy and jet back, his face pulled, putty-like, into much thinner proportions and his gentle grey eyes turned hard, blazing jade green, his skin mud-splattered, his fist clenched and raised upwards, clamped around a struggling golden snitch…

Cho shook her head, startled out of her thoughts. Slightly frightened at the lack of control in her own mind, she turned abruptly and started running up the stairs, suddenly eager to get back to her own room, away from the shadowy, dimly lit common room which enticed forbidden thoughts.

One thing she had found out, however. She certainly would never make a good Occlumens.


End file.
